


Natarajasana

by extremesoft



Category: Formula 1 RPF, Motorsport RPF
Genre: Blow Jobs, Bondage, Hand Jobs, In Public, M/M, PWP, Rope Bondage, Sensory Deprivation, Smut, and technically a whole gym, and wall bars, blindfolding, if a strap counts as rope here, misuse of yoga equipment
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-25
Updated: 2018-08-25
Packaged: 2019-07-02 07:52:59
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,008
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15792252
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/extremesoft/pseuds/extremesoft
Summary: This is definitelynotwhat his trainer had in mind when they planned his morning workout routine, no. What it is is something unthinkably better.





	Natarajasana

**Author's Note:**

> I was supposed to write something else completely for my next, eh, porn, but then something happened and my ideas merged and changed their forms and then, I swear to heavens, the new instructor of the yoga class I’ve randomly been attending introduced us to yoga straps, and I can assure you that for the rest of the class I meditated to some very inappropriate mental imagery, as depicted below. Those things really look like something else. So.
> 
> Now this one has about as much plot as those very silly movies where the pizza guy/cable guy/random mister guy pops ‘round and then suddenly _poof_ , it's naked time, but :’D I just sincerely do hope you all enjoy reading, as always!
> 
> (Oh, and, just in case you wondered: the title is Sanskrit for a yoga pose called The Lord of the Dance, you'll see the meaning of the naming once Daniel appears - but I won't tell you whether he's actually dancing or not just yet ;D)

Max doesn’t exactly have a _problem_ with exercising at any given time of the day, and he’s not one to usually grumble about having to wake up early. It wouldn’t be of use anyway. But since he is a human being, after all, even he isn’t immune to those certain kind of mornings when it feels like having to wake up before 11 _ante meridiem_ to go to the gym is the worst form of torture the humankind, in all its madness and depravity, has invented. Or, indeed, having to wake up before 11 _ante meridiem_ , period.

His feet still seem reluctant to not only move but actually carry his weight as well as he makes his way to the modern version of a torture chamber, not even bothering to cover his gaping mouth as he yawns, and lazily flashes the key card to the reader on the side of the door before slowly pulling it open. It’s so early in the morning that the gym has just barely opened - and okay, on the other hand Max _does_ enjoy being able to complete his workout in unbroken peace, the possibility to take his time to try out different weights and ways to drive himself to all his edges; the plus side of working out practically at the crack of dawn is that everything’s quiet and calm and he can truly get lost in himself while finding the limits he’s always trying to push, break and cross, time and time again.

But still - surely normal, everyday people don’t even _try_ to hit the fucking _gym_ before a pig’s fart in the morning? What’s the point of doing one of the most dangerous jobs on the planet and earn a shitton of money from it and being rich and famous in general if you can’t even sleep for as long as you’d like after all your hard work? Oh hell.

Max saunters to the lockers, rubbing his eyes and windmilling his arms in an attempt to wake his mortal coil up. None of the lights have been turned on, except for the ones in the locker room, and even the air itself feels like it’s still asleep, the gentle light of the morning silently wafting through it, attempting not to stir and awaken it. It’s blissfully airy and serene, Max thinks it all could almost be _beautiful_ if he wasn’t supposed to start breaking a sweat for his next trick. He shoves his bag and spare clothes unceremoniously in the locker, locks it and heads for the treadmill with absolutely no rush, still not turning the lights on, wanting to enjoy the white, peaceful glow of the morning:

and he’s just about to put his headphones on and hide from the outside world completely for a moment behind them when a low, quiet sigh suddenly reaches his ears, and that’s when he lifts his gaze and sees Daniel.

Max’s first initial thought is _what is he doing here so early_ , and then the next, perhaps more natural reaction of saying something and walking up to Daniel almost kicks in; but Max finds his words traitorous and limbs unwilling as he can suddenly do nothing but stop to watch.

There’s something _unearthly_ about how Daniel looks and moves, the shimmer filtering through the windows surrounding and illuminating him like a halo. He’s barefooted, clad in black and grey, rooted on one foot on top of a blue yoga mat, next to the wall bars just to be on the safe side; and bound around his other foot there’s a long and strong-looking black strap he’s pulling on, arms arching as he slowly starts walking his hands along the length of the strap, the foot at the end of it edging closer to his back as a result. And it is the strap that makes Max wonder how a person can possibly look so angelic yet so unbelievably erotic at the same time. The skilfully sculpted muscles in Daniel’s thighs and shins waver under the strain of the position he's in, his back curves like a stroke of an artist’s paintbrush, his eyes are closed and lips parted, moving to his shuddering but even breathing.

Max feels like he’s being torn in two by the sight: it arouses him beyond measure and yet the moment feels like something unreal and almost sacred, the calm and the quiet, the pale light of the morning, Daniel’s body bending and vibrating as the distance between his hands and the foot in the noose on the strap gets shorter. Suddenly Max is awake to the extreme, every inch of him electrified - either that, or he’s fallen asleep in the locker room in the middle of changing his clothes and is enjoying a very pleasant dream indeed right now.

Then Daniel carefully lets the strap lengthen again and lowers the leg he’s been stretching. Max looks on, in such a trance that when Daniel suddenly opens his eyes it actually startles him a little, the force with which the spell shatters. Daniel wiggles his legs and gives his ankles a couple of rolls before bending down to loosen the loop around his foot and take the strap off. And it’s only when he straightens himself again that he happens to notice Max and a stunned, happy grin lights him up, his whole being suddenly an imitation of the morning sun. Max realizes he must look both weird and highly idiotic, staring at Daniel doing his stretches with his mouth open and eyes wide.  
“Jeepers, I didn’t notice you”, Daniel says as Max finally remembers how walking works again and moves to close the distance between them. “Must have been more asleep than I thought.”

Max puts a gentle hold on his hips and kisses him, a warm, unhurried touch.  
“Good morning”, he murmurs against Daniel’s lips and rests their foreheads together for a moment, a smile finally creeping upon his face. “What are you doing here? It’s so early, I could have easily slept more.”  
“I’m just doing my yoga”, says Daniel, rubbing Max’s back gently with long strokes of his right hand, still clenching the strap in his left. “I woke up early and couldn’t go back to sleep… so why the hell not then.”  
Max chuckles, the sudden warm flow of air brushing Daniel’s jaw. “You do yoga?”  
“Well, not really yoga as in yoga, y’ know”, explains Daniel - making himself perfectly unclear - while he tilts his head to nuzzle the side of Max’s neck, causing Max to instinctively tighten his grip on Daniel’s top as the skin of his arms comes alive with goosebumps. “But my flexibility is somewhere between a rhino and the whole of Mount Everest-”  
Daniel enjoys the warm feeling of Max laughing at the simple joke against his shoulder before continuing. “...and they thought that some _elements_ of yoga would do me good.”

“You look amazing, doing that”, Max whispers as he tilts his head, gazes straight into Daniel’s dark, lively eyes. He would have never thought it possible how turned on he feels right now, at this ghastly hour, way too early in the morning. Daniel really does these things to him, he be damned.  
“You think? Not like a rhino?” asks Daniel with a glint in his eye, moving his other hand from Max’s back to his side.  
“A very sexy rhino”, teases Max, and they both happily giggle at that for a moment before Max captures Daniel’s lips in a sudden kiss again, more firm and wanton this time, like trying to prove a point. Daniel bites his lip and smirks when Max pulls back, only letting out a small _mmm_ of enjoyment.

“What’s this?” asks Max in all innocence as he reaches to take the black strap from Daniel’s hand. It’s quite thick, certainly strong, feels like it’s made out of cotton. There are two metal rings attached to the other end of the strap, enabling the formation of a tight and holding noose when the strap is threaded in between them. Max’s mind instantly floods with thoughts and images as he fiddles with the strap, slowly wrapping and unwrapping it around his palm, and he’s fairly sure not one bit of them is anything any decent yogi would involve in their practices.  
“A yoga strap”, answers Daniel, suddenly needing to swallow, trying to interpret Max’s unveiled fascination. “Helps rhinos reach the desired pose.”

Max glances at Daniel, the strap now coiled in a couple of loose loops around his hand and wrist, the black stripes it forms piercing his pallor. “Can we try?”  
Daniel looks at Max with slight confusion as well as some kind of inexplicable anticipation, trying to figure out why his spine is suddenly tingling and the air around them crackling with sparks that certainly weren’t there when he entered the gym. “Yeah, sure - I’ll just have to show you first. We can’t do that together with the same strap, y’ know...”  
“No”, says Max as he tugs some of the strap from between the metal rings to grow the loop. “We can’t. Not that at least. I had a pose of my own in mind.”

And with that being said, Max takes a hold of both of Daniel’s hands, lifts them to his waist height and slips them through the noose at the end of the strap. He tightens it around Daniel’s wrists, every inch of his movements determined but careful as well, in an attempt to give Daniel the chance to protest - which he doesn’t exactly do, of course, just draws in a sharp breath.  
“ _Max_ ”, he gasps, not being able to take his eyes off from Max’s hands and his own, the word itself shivering in the air. “Shit... what if someone comes-”  
“They won’t”, answers Max as he tugs the strap one more time, then lifts his gaze back to Daniel’s face. “The first person who is going to come here in a long time is you.”

The confidence in Max’s words is in all fairness quite ill-deserved because anyone _could_ appear at any minute, really, but it happens so rarely at this hour that Max is willing to risk it for the thrill. And he also can’t resist the joke any more than he can resist Daniel, and Daniel can’t help chuckling, conquered by curiosity and excitement as well as nerves.  
“You didn’t just say that” he whispers, and then lets out an almost inaudible _oh God_ as Max slings the free length of the strap over one of the wall bars above their heads and then takes a hold of it it again, not pulling - not just yet.  
“Can I continue?” he asks quietly, looking Daniel straight in the eye, trying to keep his composure because all he really wants to do right now in this world is to continue, keep going until he can see what it’s like when Daniel orgasms with his hands tied to a wall bar with a black yoga strap, _at the gym_ ; if it looks as heavenly in reality as it looks in his head.  
“Yeah”, says Daniel breathlessly after a split second’s silence and nods, captivated by the sternness in Max’s eyes and movements.

Max pulls on the strap until Daniel’s wrists touch the bar, and Daniel helps him by leaning his back against the wall and lifting his arms himself as well; they’re left almost fully extended, his elbows curving only in a slight angle, and Max has to raise on his toes for a moment while pressed firmly against Daniel to be able to make a proper knot next to Daniel’s wrists, despite being tall. They can both feel the other’s arousal already, bodies tightly flush against each other, heated and awake, and Daniel tries to roll his hips and grind against Max while Max secures the binding he’s made one last time.  
“ _Fuck_ ”, Daniel gasps when he succeeds in creating the friction he craves, mind racing, breathing getting shallow. Max hisses, clenching the tail of the strap in his fist, there’s still so much of it left he’s not sure what he should do with it, tie it to another bar, out of the way, or-

He can’t help his own jaw dropping as the idea presents itself to him.

“Close your eyes”, he whispers to Daniel as he leans back, separating their chests. Daniel nods once more and obeys, lips shuddering, oh _God_ how sinful he looks already as he is, long lashes shadowing the flushed cheeks and chest heaving; and then his breath hitches, the air he’s about to take in stops still on his lips, when he feels the strap being gently placed over his eyes.  
“ _Max_ …” breathes Daniel, at a complete loss of words and indeed most thoughts. “What if-”  
“Can I continue?” asks Max again, hoarse, holding the strap in place, fighting to keep himself from actually begging for permission.

Not many seconds pass before Daniel whispers _yes_ , giving in, _yes_ , overcoming the _what if_ , and Max’s body flares up. He nods to himself as if in encouragement, circles the strap carefully around Daniel’s head and makes another knot, not daring to break his own concentration by speaking out loud until he’s done. Both their breaths are nothing but panting and gasps as their crotches keep brushing against each other, very much in need of attention at this point, and Max almost can’t believe himself what he’s doing; it’s as if he has succeeded in seducing and then defiling a pure, holy being, turning its halo into a blindfold.  
“Is it too tight?” Max asks, hushed. This is definitely _not_ what his trainer had in mind when they planned his morning workout routine, no. What it is is something unthinkably better.  
“No”, chokes Daniel, spellbound by what Max’s voice _feels_ like; everything’s different now that all he sees is the pitch-black darkness Max has crafted, he swears that he doesn’t _hear_ Max’s voice as much as he feels it gently stroke his skin, and he can only imagine Max’s face right now, as he’s taking in how he has staged Daniel.

Max knows he has to be quicker than he’d prefer, because the possibility of someone actually coming to the gym to work on something else than their cock is, after all, more real than he’d prefer, and he also can’t let Daniel suffer in any way from his arms being lifted above his head for too long. His moves are fierce as he cups Daniel’s jaw with both hands and finally kisses him again, hard, licking his way in; Daniel letting a moan escape into his mouth, Max’s fingertips running back and forth on the edge of the strap covering Daniel’s eyes. Daniel can’t help his knees almost buckling, they would give way if it wasn’t for the cotton shackles keeping him in place. The sheer intensity of the kiss already throws him off balance, his other senses sharpening when being deprived of one, and a violent shudder shakes him as the thought of what _else_ Max has in mind and how _that_ must feel makes its way to him through the haze.

Max slides his hands down Daniel’s neck, to his shoulder blades and down his sides, stopping to tug the hem of his top up. He wastes no time in navigating his fingers under Daniel’s clothes, tracing the edges of his muscles, soft but clearly outlined. Daniel pants heavily, every brush of Max’s hands sending electricity shooting around his body; he is steadily reduced to a mere mixture of senses and sensations, not seeing what Max does to him making all of it feel hundredfold.  
“I wish I could fuck you like that”, whispers Max into Daniel’s ear, intentionally close, the flow of air caressing Daniel with force and making him wail.  
“Max...” Daniel repeats yet again, _Max_ , having been stripped of not only his eyesight but almost all other words than the name as well.  
“Maybe later”, says Max as he slips his hands underneath the waistband of Daniel’s shorts and pulls them down with determination that can only be described as debauched, boxers quickly following suit. Daniel gasps and hisses at the feeling of the sleek materials teasingly brushing against his cock and then the sudden flow of free air around him, the wall bar cool and hard against his arse, the strength of Max’s movements.

Max crouches down on one knee in front of Daniel, his hands roaming down Daniel’s hips and stopping on his thighs. He has to take in a deep breath, keep himself in check, try to balance on the trapeze between too slow and too quick. He trails his fingers along the curved lines of Daniel’s tattoos, raking his nails over the shuddering skin and quivering muscles before wrapping his right hand around the base of Daniel’s cock. _Anyone could come_ , echoes in the back of his head as he hears Daniel groan and lifts his gaze up once more to admire his artwork, _anyone could come at any moment_ , but he finds he doesn’t care, not when he sees and feels Daniel tied up and blindfolded and filthy above him, not unless it is Daniel who comes.

He smirks to himself, lets a breath of warm air out of his lungs and enjoys witnessing the effects of it meeting Daniel’s cock, Daniel whimpering and involuntarily jerking his hips. He gives the tip a couple of tentative licks, laps the glistening slick almost fully covering Daniel’s length by now. Daniel feels like he’s in a storm and on the verge of capsizing, he’s not even sure whether his legs are actually carrying any of his weight anymore or does all of it hang from the strap now; he vaguely recognizes the dull ache in his wrists and arms but can truly feel nothing but Max’s teasing gradually making him collapse. And then Max suddenly mouths as much of him as he can take in one go and Daniel’s moans bounce back to them from the walls of the empty gym.

Max feels almost intoxicated, all-powerful. He hollows his cheeks, tries to unclench his jaw, licks in long strips from the base to the top. He bobs his head back and then goes again, takes in the sounds he’s able to extract from Daniel, the choked gasps and moans raining on him, mixed with his own name. Daniel sees nothing but blackness but feels all the more, the wet heat surrounding him, the fiery glow starting to pool in the depths of his gut. He rolls his hips once more, tries almost unknowingly to fuck into Max’s mouth and Max _lets_ him, lewd and willing, slightly gagging but tilting his head and trying to flatten his tongue to make room. Daniel can’t really thrust with force, his position limiting the movement and his muscles trembling with the strain, and it’s not long before Max puts a tight grip on his thighs again and takes it to their boundaries and beyond himself.

Daniel doesn’t have to tip Max off in any way to let him know he can’t last much longer. Max can already tell from the way his breathing reduces to short, harsh gasps and from the way the muscles in his legs start to tremble and clasp, from the way his cock tightens. And it’s a sign for Max that he needs to stop if he really wants to _see_. He pulls back, lets the whole of Daniel’s length slip and fall heavily from between his lips and quickly gets to his feet as Daniel tilts his head back and moans in sheer despair.  
“Max, please-”  
Max responds by leaning against Daniel, chest to chest once more, and taking a hold of his cock again. Daniel groans in surprise and pleasure as the all too chilly emptiness momentarily surrounding him gets replaced by Max’s warm palm.

“I want to see it”, whispers Max, thoroughly enjoying his accomplishments as he watches Daniel’s neck redden and lips part in a wordless plea for mercy, the strap painting a black stripe on Daniel’s temple. He doesn’t take too much time to glide his hand up along Daniel’s length and start working him, quick and dirty and rapidly picking up pace, his only intent now to make Daniel come like that, like in his head. Daniel almost sobs, pulling on the strap and trying to thrust into Max’s fist - and then suddenly his whole body tightens as his peak builds up and overpowers him, making him go rigid and then limp. Max watches with fixed eyes, lips parted in awe and lust like Daniel’s in the cry erupting from his throat, feeling the sudden warmth of Daniel's come on his fingers.

He nurses Daniel through the aftershocks, kisses him, featherlight; he keeps whispering into Daniel’s ear nonsense he doesn’t quite register himself, then quickly wipes his hands on his own sweatpants and lifts them to open the knot behind Daniel’s head. He is of course still so hard himself it aches, his sweatpants feel hot and sticky like after waking up from a wet dream, but he’ll probably have to take care of that himself in the toilets - Daniel’s hands won’t most likely be of use for a while after their, well, exercises.

Daniel can do nothing but pant and catch his breath that for some reason hitches again when Max gently removes the strap from in front of his eyes. He can’t seem to even gather the strength to open them yet, still blanketing himself with artificial darkness.  
“Daniel…” whispers Max, gently brushing Daniel’s cheek with the back of his hand before raising on his toes again to untie him from the wall bar. The strap has not been tightly bound over Daniel’s eyes but the thick edges of it have still left shallow, red indentations on his cheeks and forehead, and the hair on his temples is sweaty and flattened in places where the strap has been stretched over it. Max can’t even begin to imagine what Daniel’s wrists must look like, having undoubtedly had to carry most of his weight in the end while being bound in thick, unyielding cotton; he works the knot open as quickly as he possibly can with his own fingers slightly shaking and takes a gentle hold of Daniel’s hands, helping him lower them. Daniel grunts, eyes still closed, his arms and wrists sure are painful but the pleasure waving in him softens and dulls it and makes every bit of it worth everything.

Max can’t help sighing as he loosens the loop around Daniel’s wrists. The strap has sunk and bitten deep into the skin, tattooing parts of it with the weaving pattern of itself in dark red. There’s probably going to be bruises, or at least some kind of markings, memoirs of the lascivious sun salutation they’ve performed, and questions that follow; but then again Daniel can always say that he just slightly overdid it at the gym, and it wouldn’t even be an utter lie. Max lets the strap drop next to their feet and runs his thumb along the uneven surface of the marking on Daniel’s wrists, and Daniel quietly hisses at the light touch that’s still just within the limits of bearable on the overly sensitive, strained skin. And then he opens his eyes.

“Jesus”, he gasps as he glances and then stops to examine his right wrist in both fright and fascination. He tries to lift his forearms and carefully roll his wrists, wincing at the difficulty of the movements but still staring at the imprint bracelets on his skin with pure marvel.  
“ _Namaste_ ”, whispers Max while wrapping his arms around Daniel, teasing but gentle, not being able to fight back a mischievous smile. Daniel shifts his gaze to Max and grins at him with both disbelief and bliss.  
“Fuck”, he responds with a perfectly contented sigh before leaning to kiss Max again and feeling him chuckle straight into his mouth.

  


**Author's Note:**

> (No yogis were harmed during writing this fic)


End file.
